


The Ninth Life

by Saucery



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Animal Transformation, Catboys & Catgirls, Demons, Drama, Dubious Consent, Eventual Explicit Content, Humor, Immortality, M/M, Magic, Supernatural Elements, Underage Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ciel gets turned into a catboy. And we all know how Sebastian loves cats, don't we?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ninth Life

* * *

 

Sebastian had been terribly negligent in his duties, in that he had only managed to rescue his master from certain doom. Thanks in part to the interference of a massive candelabra (crawling out from under the weight of a thousand glass candles - all smashed, of course), Sebastian had been a little too late to rescue Ciel from the _spell_. 

A spell that was only beginning to show its effects. Sebastian knew that, as a result of his deflecting most of it onto the caster (a Venetian gentleman with a lugubriously pointed hat), Ciel was still, thankfully, in human form. Mostly. Well, his body was a human's. His mind, however... 

"Grar," said Ciel, and nipped Sebastian's hand.

Oh, dear.

It had taken the better part of their trip home for Sebastian to determine exactly what manner of a creature Ciel was. What manner of animal, rather. Because Ciel was obviously an animal. A mammal. The carriage rattled around them, and Ciel seemed disconcerted by it, as if he'd never been in such a noisy, enclosed space. He curled around Sebastian's arm with an utter disregard for personal space, which should have been impossible enough, given his past and his hatred for prolonged tactile contact. But what was even more impossible was that Ciel was _biting_ him, teeth making little indents in Sebastian's shoulder, worrying away at the already-tattered waistcoat until Sebastian could feel bruises forming on his skin. His falsely human skin.

"Young master," said Sebastian, infusing his voice with the sort of patience only a demon could muster. (And why did humans claim that patience was an angelic quality? Angels were ridiculously impatient, always wanting to change things, to save souls, to battle evil; demons, by comparison, were paragons of eternal patience, content to feast on the dark residue of human sins, coagulating honey-like around the hives of urban cities, content entirely to let it all go to rot.) " _Master_ ," he repeated, when Ciel appeared to take no heed. "My shoulder, if you please. Why must you gnaw on it?"

Ciel's eyes flicked up to his, dark and wide and pupils abnormally elongated. "Hurts," he grit out, the humanness of the word startling Sebastian, but then Ciel was back to his animal noises again, his hands locked claw-like around Sebastian's arm.

His master was in pain. This alone was not upsetting to Sebastian, as Ciel's agony often colored his soul a delightful red, as blood diffused in water, and Sebastian had acquired a particular weakness for the taste of Ciel's pain. It made him fantasize, with a sort of fevered hunger-lust, of the time when he would take Ciel's soul. Would it taste so deliciously red? So acidic? Wine laced with the gentlest arsenic...

No, what displeased Sebastian wasn't that his master was in pain, but that his master was in pain and that _Sebastian was not the one allowing it_. 

It was entirely different to linger a little longer than necessary in the doorway of some decrepit villain's equally decrepit mansion, enjoying the music of Ciel's odd, restrained whimpers behind an ominously ornate door. It was entirely different to close his eyes and listen to them, relish them, bottle them away in his mind, for a moment more, before swooping in to rescue his master from the clutches of yet another Iron Maiden. 

No. This was something Sebastian could not control, could not choose to end, and the thought that his centuries-old power was useless against this half-done human spell was mortifying. As was the thought that his own delay in saving Ciel might have endangered their contract; after all, Ciel was only his in exchange for flawless service, and the inability to reverse a simple anthropomorphic spell could certainly count as a considerable flaw.

And what if Ciel never turned back? His exquisite soul, that Sebastian had spent years carefully garnishing with rage and vengeance and misplaced attachment - what would happen to that soul? Had it been ruined? Would it ever be his - would it ever open to him, as Ciel's love for him would have made it do? Would this... creature even remember that love? Or would Sebastian's taking of this soul be a mere tasteless rape, a jolt of colorless absorption, like all the others before? A pathetic, ugly theft, when what he wanted was for Ciel to _give_ it to him, open all the way from the skin down, down to his naked, trembling core, his shimmering, incomprehensible depths - surrendering himself to Sebastian, calling his name, willing, ecstatic, _his_...

To think that he'd finally had the chance to truly prepare his meal, by serving a child, tender in body and in mind. But youth was, evidently, as insubstantial as it was malleable. One simple, stupid spell, and it might all just disappear - all of it - all of _Ciel_ \- his hatred, his acrid terror, his shame, his love -

"Damnation," snarled Sebastian, pulling his animal-master closer to him. And he meant it, too. In every sense of the word.

 

* * *

 


End file.
